


Forgotten Nests

by ntd_fx1



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntd_fx1/pseuds/ntd_fx1
Summary: in a time far before or after Erin Hunter's novels, a clan suffers a brutal conquering by longtime rivals, and pins its hopes on three apprentices finding their lost leader.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warriors fic I wrote a few years ago in 2015. figured i might as well post it because i still really like it. if you all like it i'll continue it maybe. also, i'll try to fix the formatting, i know it's weird-looking.
> 
> here's the old a/n:  
> (A/N: Since I’ve been re-reading Warriors recently, I figured I might as well write some backstory for my main character, Oceanstar. This whole concept is partly based off an old roleplaying session, though a lot of it is original work, too. I never really bothered on putting it down on paper until now. This is just a one-off I’ll be doing, but if you guys like it and I’m not too busy, I’ll turn it into a full-fledged thing.)

Shadows crossed the strange, rough walls of Twolegplace, as the sound of monsters could be heard nearby. Night had fallen upon the strange camp, painting the nuances of the world in obscurity. Strange scents filled the air, the stench of the Thunderpath tenfold.

“Dawnpaw, there’s no way we’ll find him! Not today, at least! Can’t we just take a quick break before one of us drops dead?” a small tabby tom complained, his voice in big opposition of moving any further.

“Quit your whining, Marblepaw! We’re here on a mission, and none of us are taking any ‘breaks’ until we find him!” replied Dawnpaw, her white-grey coat covered in filth.

The third cat remained silent at the bickering of the others. He was the thinnest of the three, shivering as the wind blew across his hazel fur.

“And I’m supposed to act like your aching legs are more important than the mission?”

“You’re supposed to care for your fellow Clan cats!”

“Not when they’re being mouse-brained!”

Dawnpaw paused, much to Marblepaw’s relief. She turned to the skinny tom behind the both of them, his copper eyes piercing the night.

“What do you think, Harepaw? Should we continue onwards on a mission that might save WindClan, or act like kittypets and laze around like Marblepaw’s suggesting?”

_WindClan_ … The name stuck out in the tom’s mind. Once said to be as fast as the wind, as strong as the storms. He heard the elder’s tales, the few that remained, anyways. The stories of how they were once a proud Clan, free to roam the open moors. Tales of sleeping under the stars, being the closest to the elusive StarClan. His bloodline, his Clan, they were shells of their former selves, stripped of their food, land, warriors, and glory. 

“I think Marblepaw’s right,” replied Harepaw, his voice faltering. “We should rest here for now.”

The she-cat grumbled. “Fine. But only until moonhigh.”

The trio moved into the alleyway, bordered by large Twoleg nests. The sounds of Twolegs inside slowly died down as the night continued.

“What if he’s dead? What if we just went all this way for nothing?” asked the tabby.

“He’s not dead, Marblepaw! Leaders have nine lives!”

“Oceanstar left seasons ago! What’s to say he didn’t lose all of them yet?”

“He isn’t just some pushover, you know!”

“Then why did he leave us?”

A tense silence followed Marblepaw’s words, Harepaw stared up into the empty sky. It was many moons since the WindClan leader, Oceanstar, had run away. In that time, two rival forest Clans, RiverClan and ShadowClan, had struck fiercely. Any cats living in WindClan territory were now reduced to fallow slaves under ShadowClan’s rule. The last he heard of ThunderClan, a once legendary ally, was that they were trying to defend themselves from RiverClan. He did not know of their fate, and frankly, he didn’t want to.

Images of the WindClan camp flooded his mind. The starving warriors, carefully watched over by the much more powerful ShadowClan guards. In those moons, queens lay in the nursery, fearful that their kits might not survive the coming sunrise. In those moons, apprentices carried scars of seasoned warriors, remnants of their constant abuse by the guards. He turned to Marblepaw’s leg, a deep cut going across it.

Dawnpaw got up.

“You guys need anything to eat?”

“All of a sudden you’re being nice?”

She turned to Harepaw.

“How about you?”

“I’ll take a squirrel, maybe. Whatever you can find.”

Blatant lies. By his own standards, he was full. But he knew how she worked, she needed to feel helpful. Dawnpaw gave a quick nod, poked her head around the alleyway, and then disappeared. As much as he didn’t want to, Marblepaw gave a small prayer for her safety.

“What do you think?” the tabby asked.

Harepaw’s head darted to his voice.

“About what?”

“About Oceanstar leaving?”

He barely knew the infamous tom’s voice, let alone what went on in his mind.

“You first.”

“I think he’s a coward. No sensible leader would abandon their Clan like that. I don’t know why the warriors back at camp were saying he’d ‘save WindClan’. If anything, he’d probably destroy it. That is, if there’s anything left for him even _to_ destroy by the time he comes back. Your turn.”

“I feel as though he’s trying to help, in his own mysterious ways. Perhaps he’s trying to put together some group that will overthrow ShadowClan, or maybe he’s trying to find us new territory. Even if he did leave us, he’s still our leader. We should show a little respect.”

Their two views were not unlike their Clan’s. Most despised the former leader, calling him a weakling for leaving them to suffer. A benevolent leader would’ve saved them, if not standing with them through this torture. And then there were the few that liked him. Those who believed he secretly plotting to take back WindClan, full-force. Opinions in the camp ranged from sympathetic to cold-blooded, optimistic to cynical.

“I’ll show him some respect when I’m full again.”


	2. Chapter 2

The night continued, and Twolegplace was mostly silent. The only sound Marblepaw could hear was the soft breathing of his fellow apprentice, his fur slowly rising up and down. The elders told him of prophecies from StarClan, strange, cryptic messages that would enter some cat’s minds when they slept. Sometimes they were hopeful predictions, informing a cat of their destiny. Other times they were warnings, harrowing advisories of evils to come.

His inner self laughed at the thought. StarClan? If StarClan were here, he wouldn’t even be on this foolish journey! Thoughts of his early years came to mind, looking up at the sky with his mother. Every night he’d ask her where their ancestors are, and every night he’d get the same answer.

“I don’t know.”

Of course she didn’t. No one did in that forsaken place known as the forest. They left the Clans to wallow in their own filth, ShadowClan and RiverClan to torture the forest, ThunderClan to forever be trapped in obscurity, WindClan to feebly attempt survival while their world was being destroyed before them. His kind didn’t just deal with death, they lived with it. Every accursed moment he heard of some elder starving to death or some apprentice that was torn up by the guards or another warrior that lost their mind and ended up attacking futilely.

Footsteps sounded from the end of the alleyway. He tensed up before recognizing a familiar scent.

“Dove for myself, and two squirrels for you and Harepaw. That is, whenever he wakes up.”

He dipped his head to thank her, and then feasted on the squirrel.

“See, I don’t hate you. I just think sometimes you can be a fuzzball.”

She took a bite out of the dove, before looking up to Marblepaw inquisitively.

“How do you think WindClan’s doing?”

“Since we left? Terrible, like usual. It’s not like ShadowClan left overnight or something.”

“But, we can change that, right?”

The tabby paused for what seemed like moons. He closed his eyes, visions of bloodshed filling the void he saw. Marblepaw took a deep breath before looking back up to her, shaking his head slowly.

Surprisingly, Dawnpaw didn’t snap at him. Instead, her eyes seemed more understanding of his doubts, almost as if he were talking to a completely different cat.

“At least you’re being honest. You never were one for motivation, were you?”

“What’s there to be motivated about? We’re either going to find him dead, dying, or against helping us. And then what do we do? Go home saying ‘sorry, the one cat you needed to save the Clan didn’t really feel like it’? That’s all if a ShadowClan guard doesn’t kill us all the moment we set foot in camp!”

“I think you’re putting too little faith in him. He’ll come back with us, I promise that.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

She stared up at the sky, an orb above nearing the center of their world.

“It’s almost moonhigh, we should get ready to leave.”

Nudging Harepaw, she watched with determined eyes as he slowly rose.

“We’re leaving?”

Dawnpaw nodded. “Brought you a squirrel, once you finish eating it we’ll be off to the southern parts of Twolegplace.”

“Alright,” he replied, going up to the squirrel. “Really think you'll find him today?”

“We have to. There aren't many other places he could've gone.”

“The Dark Forest, maybe.”

Dawnpaw shot an unamused look at the tabby.

“What?”

Harepaw took a bite, effortlessly tearing through the flesh of the creature.

Despite lasting a few hours, the break felt as though it had only lasted a few heartbeats. The tom finished his meal, bits of the prey's fur still clinging on his mouth. Not even a full sunrise and the seeds of doubt already began to grow in the group's mind. The she-cat managed to fight it off, but she didn't even know if she wanted to.

The entirety of WindClan was counting on a group that couldn't even count on themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

The world had barely achieved sunrise when the trio stopped for another quick break. Deep in the forgotten nests of Twolegplace, they lay down yet again, plotting their next move.

“Okay, we can either continue down these parts, or head into the Twoleg tunnels.” stated Harepaw, his voice soft and guiding.

“Further into Twolegplace. Lots of rogues live there.” explained the she-cat.

Marblepaw was quick to decline her orders, unsurprisingly. “He wouldn’t want any attention from other cats. We should take the tunnels.”

“And how do you know that?” she responded, a hint of anger in her tone.

“How do you?”

Great. More bickering. Their constant mews of anger and conflict were drowned out in the thin cat’s mind by the crickets and their chirping. Harepaw looked at the strange, abandoned parts of Twolegplace. Their nests were worn down, the dilapidated remains of someone’s home. Empty scents filled the air, remnants of Twolegs that had spent their whole lives trapped in these old boxes, sealed off from the world. Focusing more on the scents, another filled the air. His eyes grew wide. Seemed like an old tom, but despite the enigmatic scent, he felt familiarity.

“Someone’s here. The garden to the left of us. He seems afraid.”

The two cats quickly fell silent, sharply turning to the old nest. The she-cat started creeping towards it, followed by the others. The tabby reluctantly followed, holding back any objections to seeing their minder.

It was like many other Twoleg gardens, firmly closed off by tall, while spires. The scent grew stronger as they crawled through a gap in the spires. A grey tom sat in the clearing, staring up at the waning moon. Buried under the scent of trash and the Thunderpath was one the three knew since birth. It was unmistakable, he was one of their own.

…

“Oceanstar!”

Dawnpaw was the first to speak, eager to consult with the old tom. He was perfectly still, continuing to watch the starless sky above them all, like a hunter on the prowl. A long silence passed before the tom spoke, his voice deep and troubled.

“That is not my name, not for many seasons it wasn’t.”

Harepaw spoke next, intrigued by the infamous leader that sat before them.

“Oceanstar, it’s us, WindClan. Surely you must scent that?”

He turned around slowly, his grey fur mangled and dirty. Instead of the lean, muscular leader they were told to expect, they saw a mangy, thin-to-the-bone shadow of a tom. His cobalt eyes were filled more with despair than with wisdom. The former leader had a sorrowful look to him, almost pitiful.

“I did, as much as I feared it wasn’t.”

Dawnpaw took a step back. This was the first time she ever heard a leader talk about ‘fear’, something they were supposed to be without. Her shock was interrupted by the tom’s voice again.

“For apprentices, you seem starved. Let me get you three some fresh-kill.”

He disappeared around the corner of the Twoleg nest, returning a few moments later with a rabbit and a few doves.

“It’s apparent you’re not going to leave anytime soon. I assume you have many questions, as do I. How is WindClan?”

Marblepaw was quick to answer the old tom, as Harepaw helped himself to one of the doves.

“As bad as you left it. They’re all starving or dead. ShadowClan’s been slowly destroying us. Worst part is, it’s working.”

Dawnpaw looked at the tabby, silently berating him for his disrespect. Oceanstar dipped his head upon hearing the grim news, his eyes closed with thoughts of his home in ruins.

“That was what I feared.”

There was that word again. Dawnpaw didn’t know what to feel about it now, other than concern. She tried to keep the doubt away. He can save her clan, he had to.

“Why did you leave the forest?” she asked.

The memories rushed back to Oceanstar’s mind like his old Clan to fresh-kill.

…

“As you may know, I was once known as Oceanstorm. I was valued as one of WindClan’s finest warriors in those days.”

He recalled the WindClan camp, the sun beaming down on his shoulders as he returned from another victorious battle. The cheers for his patrol, at the time they seemed endless.

“Hard to believe it, but at one point, my Clan loved me. Some said I had the wisdom of an elder with the claws of LionClan. I had won many battles for my kin, and mentored two apprentices.”

Oh, his mentorship. How he missed the days of teaching young minds, training them in code and combat. That was when he enjoyed doing so, he only wished he could again.

“But I never loved war as the others did. Where others saw glory and victory, I only saw unneeded suffering.”

His nostalgia quickly faded, replaced by a flashback to a certain thought back at the camp. He recalled it like yesterday, the old Clan leader standing atop her den, her grim news announced to the whole Clan.

“Not once did I ever want to become deputy, but when our previous one died in a battle with RiverClan, I was our leader’s first choice. A moon later, she lost her ninth life to wounds.”

Her eyes, the last look the old leader gave to the world, it killed him inside. She had spent her last few days in this realm in quarantine, isolated away from the rest of the Clan by her own orders. The last thing she wanted was the Clan seeing her in such a pitiful state. Her last view of the world was not one of gentle death, but instead one of defeat, the terrible war in her own body lost as she lay on the ground, voiceless in this world evermore.

“After I ascended to leader and received my nine lives, all was well for a while. I learned to love my new role. There was plenty of food now that leaf-bare was over, and my deputy, Geartail, had newfound respect among the Clan as well, almost as if they forgot his rogue past.”

“Things weren’t perfect, though. Tensions grew with RiverClan and ShadowClan day after day, and the both of them grew closer to each other as well. My warriors were eager to fight, to show them the strength of WindClan, but I held them off. They started to question me a little bit, but still trusted me. I thought it all was just needless bloodshed, but how wrong I was.”

He fell silent for a few minutes, his most painful recollections returning to his consciousness. He tried to keep it away from his mind for so long, but he had no choice now.

“Then, the day came. I was on my seventh life then, and I had just come back from personally overseeing a hunting party. Geartail was in charge of the camp while I was gone, though besides him there were few warriors left.”

Dawnpaw looked at him, his eyes gripped with terror. He looked less and less like a leader, but also less like a traitor.

“While I was gone, ShadowClan attacked, and they attacked hard. Nearly all their warriors and apprentices were there. This wasn’t just some attack, it was full-on conquest.”

“Did you fight back?” asked the young she-cat.

He looked to the young apprentice solemnly. “No.”

“I saw it with my own eyes. My medicine cat dead on the ground in front of me, Geartail fighting off two warriors, he looked to me and called for help, but I just stood there, frozen at what was happening to my Clan. I was the last thing he saw before he lost his life.”

“Apprentices were crying over the bodies of their dead mentors, their wounds still fresh as the grass beneath. I saw kits with their eyes scratched out, screaming for their mothers before being forever silenced. Elders locked eyes with me, silently calling for help while I held there, watching them die. Some might’ve called it a raid, but no, it was a massacre.”

The three apprentices sat there at the tom’s recollections, silently taking in the horrors of the attack.

“What I saw that day…” he fearfully remembered, “I couldn’t look any more. Even if I had lost a life or two in the battle, I knew I’d never get those images out of my head.”

His eyes were shut, visions replaying in his head, every single moment of that day tearing away at him. The harrowing memories were quickly interrupted as he pulled himself together.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything was too much that day. So I did the most cowardly thing a leader could ever do.”

The former leader looked up, his despondent eyes meeting theirs.

“I ran. I ran as far as I could. The world that had nurtured me from birth, making sure I was well-fed, properly taught, I abandoned them when they needed me the most. And for that, I apologize.”

A strangely peaceful moment passed, the sun having just risen over the tall spires. A deafening silence came through the old nest, the apprentices slowly taking in the old tom’s tales.

“You can return. WindClan needs you more than ever.” pleaded Harepaw.

“I will only end up abandoning them once more.”

As if they had the same thought, the other two apprentices both unsheathed their claws.

“I don’t think you understand. WindClan needs you.”

He looked down upon Dawnpaw and Marblepaw. The she-cat seemed to be hiding her reluctance, while the other was eager for a fight. The third one backed off from the others, turning his head away.

Oceanstar did the same with his claws, though his eyes were more remorseful than observing. He muttered under his breath.

“Forgive me, StarClan, for this needless bloodshed.”


End file.
